Aftermath

It kicks you in the chest when you are so devastated and in so much pain and you pick up the phone to call the one person you can’t.

It dries your throat as you realize all the “Good morning!” and “How are you? Miss you!” and “Love you!” and daily fun fact texts stop brightening your dull screen.

It jerks you from your sleep when the pillow next to you is cold and the blankets are empty.

It twists your heart when you hear people talking about something or someone you’d do anything for, taking it for granted and not appreciating how precious it truly is.

It causes your heart to come to a halt as every song immediately becomes about them and your goodbye, or even if you had a goodbye, or if it even meant anything.

It pulls on every muscle in your body and rips your heart to shreds when you are so frustrated and confused and just want comfort without questions and hot tea with a long drive and someone to talk to who actually understands but that one person is the one person who can’t.

It makes bombs go off in your brain as you try to explain to someone how much pain and frustration you are in but all that comes out is “I just…I miss them.” when what you want to say is “It physically hurts me to breathe without their support behind me. It kills me every night thinking how I possibly could’ve done something. Anything. Without them I am no longer whole.” and all you receive in response is “Yeah, I get it.” which makes you want to scream because no. You don’t get it. You can’t. You won’t.

It floods your eyes as old photographs resurface and you remember the times, running along the beach like children or shoving ice cream in each others faces like you imagine The Flintstones would and how these moments will never be relived and no more are to come.

It really, really hits you when you realize that they are gone. Not temporarily, not “sort of”, but truly gone.